


Christmas Isn't Christmas (Without You)

by winnix



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: An Absurd Amount of References to Love Actually, M/M, an excessive usage of the word "dude", enough christmas cliches you could drown in them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnix/pseuds/winnix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, we sure as hell can’t just give up!” Holster said, with a renewed sense of purpose. “It isn’t what Colin Firth would want.” </p>
<p>Ransom and Holster become matchmakers in the spirit of Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Isn't Christmas (Without You)

**Author's Note:**

> For perihelionic, and the 'Swawesome Santa gift exchange!
> 
> this is the first fic ive ever written, and i got pretty carried away. so, enjoy over 10,000 words about some dudes being dumb around christmas time.

 

Into

There were very few things Holster loved as much as Christmas. 30 Rock, hockey and beating Ransom at Mario Kart were all extremely high on his list of loves, but when it was Christmas time, nothing seemed more important than the tree and the decorations and the insane amount of baked goods Bitty was inevitably going to make. That’s why when December 1st finally rolled around, Holster was ready to deck the fuck out of these halls.

“Dude, it was Thanksgiving like, 4 days ago.” Ransom laughed when Holster entered their shared room after what appeared to be a trip to CVS, if his massive bags sporting the drugstore’s name were anything to go on. The bags overflowed with red and green paraphernalia, including lines of tinsel, fake holly leaves and what looked like a small Christmas tree.

“So? It’s December. That means it’s basically Christmas already.” Holster replied, setting the bags on the floor and beginning to sort through them. He tugged out a garland of bright red tinsel and looked over at his friend, sprawled across his bed. “Wanna help me hang this downstairs?” Against his better judgement, Ransom agreed, and soon he was trooping down the stairs behind Holster, who was humming something that sounded an awful lot like Mariah Carey.

“How are you dressed like that?” Jack’s voice greeted Ransom and Holster when they entered the living room. However, Jack wasn’t addressing them. He was talking to Bitty, who was bunched up on the couch beside him, wearing a massive sweater and a look of discontent.

“It’s freezing!” Bitty protested. He was bundled in a blanket, and sitting on the couch he had fondly nicknamed "the biggest health hazard I've ever seen", so it was clear Bitty was pretty desperate at this point.

"Are you kidding? It's like, 40 degrees out. That's nothing." Jack said. Ransom and Holster glanced at each other. It wasn't Christmas if Bitty and Jack weren't arguing about what qualified as cold.

"Humans weren't meant to live in temperatures below 50." Bitty replied.

"Yeah, maybe that only applies to tiny humans from the South." Jack shot back with a smirk. Bitty laughed at this, grinning over at Jack, his face flushed with happiness. They were sitting next to each other, close enough to be touching if they angled themselves slightly closer. It was actually pretty sweet, Holster thought, looking at his two friends, sitting and smiling and being generally close to each other. Really sweet, in fact. They looked happy, genuinely happy, the kind of happy that Holster thought was reserved for opening presents on Christmas morning. Like a string of Christmas lights lighting up, Holster had an idea.

"Ransom!" He exclaimed, startling his friend, and snapping Jack and Bitty out of their own personal Christmas morning. "Um, how about we start hanging decoration upstairs?" He asked, innocently. Ransom just shrugged.

"Whatever, dude. I guess it's your call." With that, Holster grabbed Ransom's hand and tugged him back upstairs, all the way back up to their room.

"Ok, not to brag, but I think I'm a genius." Holster said the moment they entered their room and he had shut the door behind them.

"Lay it on me, bro." Ransom said with a smile.

"We get Jack and Bitty together for Christmas." Holster said. Ransom was silent. He probably just needed some time to absorb the complete ‘swawesomeness of the idea Holster had just proposed.

"You watched Love, Actually last night, didn't you?" Ransom asked. Holster just shrugged. So what if the movie had inspired him? Who wasn't inspired by that movie?

"Not the point. The point is, if we ever want our stony faced yet lovable Canadian captain and adorable, unofficial team baker to be happy, they need to start kissing each other. Like, as soon as possible." Holster insisted. After a moment, Ransom grinned.

"Ok, I can get on board with this." Ransom said. Holster grinned back. This is why Ransom was his true bro. Any dude who'd help another dude get two of their favorite dudes together was obviously the True Bro. "But how can we make this happen?" Ransom asked. Holster hesitated. He hadn't really gotten that far.

"We'll figure something out." Holster assured. "In the mean time, let's actually do something with the tinsel." Ransom shook his head, but still followed Holster back out the door. It was dumb, but Ransom was pretty sure he'd follow Holster anywhere, even just to hang up some crappy tinsel. If friends weren't willing to hang up Christmas decorations way before necessary, were they really your friends? Ransom didn't think so. Holster grinned back at Ransom, who was following him back down the stairs. Operation "All Jack Wants For Christmas Is Bitty" (title still in progress) was officially a go.

1

The moment Ransom burst into their room, Holster knew something huge was coming. It was obvious the idea had come to Ransom in a moment of pure genius, as an epiphany he just had to share, because he was currently standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, leaving a small puddle below him.

“Dude I was just in the shower, and I had the best idea ever.” Ransom began eagerly.

“Lay it on me, bro.” Holster said, grinning at his friend from his bed. In the back of his mind, Holster reminded himself to start going to the gym even more. Ransom was starting to get sort of ripped, which was completely unfair.

"It's about Operation-" Ransom began, but Holster jumped up from his bed before he could finish, and pressed his hand to Ransom's mouth, silencing him.

“Shhhhh!” Holster glanced around, which made Ransom laugh. Ever since this whole matchmaking scheme had started, Holster had been acting as if Jack and Bitty could jump out from any corner. “We’ve gotta keep this top secret.” Holster said, seriously. Finally, he removed his hand from Ransom’s mouth and indicated for his friend to shut the door, heading back to his bed.

“Anyway,” Ransom continued, after he shut the door. “I was thinking, what really gets people in the holiday spirit?” He asked, rhetorically. Holster grinned as a cue to continue. “Gift shopping, bro!” Ransom finished.

“‘Swawesome idea, man!” Holster exclaimed, fist bumping Ransom.

“I know, I know. I’m the real matchmaking genius here.” Ransom gave a mini bow. Holster rolled his eyes at this, but he was still smiling.   
“But how will we get them to go together?” Holster asked, sitting back down on his bed. “And where will they go?”

“Shit.” Ransom muttered. He never thought he’d get this far.

“Wait! We ask them to get gifts for us!” Holster said, his arms flying up in excitement. “We tell them we’re busy as hell, and we just need them to grab like, a book for Shitty or headphones for Lardo or something.”

“Dude, that’s perfect.” Ransom grinned. “The South Shore Mall is like, 20 minutes away. We’ll just give them some money and bullshit why we can’t go.”

“Well, I think it’s official.” Holster began. “We’re literally the best matchmakers ever.”

“Duh!” Ransom replied. He had begun to root through his shirt drawer, searching for some article of clothing that didn’t smell. For some reason, Holster was kinda disappointed when he put his shirt back on. “It’s Friday, so we’ll just tell them about the mall today, and they can go tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Holster said, a bit distracted. So, if this whole situation was supposed to play out like Love, Actually wasn’t more than one couple supposed to get together? That was the whole point, right?

“You ok, dude?” Ransom asked, pulling Holster out of his thoughts. Holster just nodded and stood up from his bed, putting on a grin.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Maybe Holster had watched one too many Christmas themed rom-coms. Ransom’s smile was starting to make his head feel funny.  “I need to find some gift money.”

The mall was crowded when Bitty and Jack arrived, people piling in around them, laden with bags and boxes. An upbeat Christmas song was playing faintly over the speakers, and fake strands of holly decorated kiosks and signs. There was even a large, fake Christmas tree, complete with large, fake candy canes, in the center of the mall. Bitty grinned, the crowd around him filling his gut with that full sense of excitement that came whenever a holiday was approaching.

“I can’t believe Ransom and Holster are making us do this.” Jack said, with no real heat behind his voice. When the two d-men had asked them to run to the mall and pick up a gift for Shitty, just as a favor, it hadn’t taken much for them to agree. Besides, they’d pay for gas money, which was an added plus in Jack’s eyes.

“Oh, I don’t really mind. I love the mall around Christmas.” Bitty said. Jack looked at him for a moment, thinking. Most people weren’t like Bitty. Jack realized this the second he met him, that most people weren’t anything like Bitty. Sure, there were other people out there who baked and played hockey and liked Beyonce, but Bitty was just so different. Different in the sense that whenever he did anything, it was like all of him was being thrown into it. All of his energy and light and warmth was being condensed and tossed into whatever he was doing. Jack felt it on the ice, more than ever, but he could glimpse it now, when Bitty was just walking beside him, smiling at a crowd of people most people would be annoyed by.

“I guess that makes one of us.” Was all Jack said in response. Bitty chuckled, distracted for a moment by the bright lights lining the tops of store fronts.

“I just love all these people, buying stuff for other people. I know Christmas isn’t about presents, but even if it was, is that really so bad?” Bitty asked, earnestly. “Just people getting nice things for the people they love. That’s pretty Christmas-y, if you ask me.” Jack almost stopped in his tracks. It’s like he could see Bitty getting brighter, feel him getting warmer. It was odd, but in the middle of the South Shore Plaza, Jack felt like he was back on the ice, skating alongside Bitty and watching him smile like he could win this game with just his spirit. That’s when Bitty rammed straight into the chest of a massive, towering dude.

“Oh, gosh!” Bitty exclaimed, springing away. “I’m so sorry, I-” Bitty stopped short. The boy was wearing a hoodie that proudly said “YALE”, in huge, white letters. Below it, in slightly smaller letters, the word “Football” was written. Jack tensed up. Jack didn’t have the best history with the Football teams. Jack had an even worse history with Yale.

“Watch it-” The football player began, glaring down at Bitty. He stopped, just as Bitty had, when he saw the sweatshirt Jack was sporting. Of course, today of all days, Jack had decided to don his Samwell Hockey hoodie. Bitty was starting to panic.

“Yeah, sorry, totally my bad.” Bitty said, grabbing Jack’s arm and giving it a tug. Jack didn’t move. “We should really be going.”

“Samwell Hockey, huh?” The football player asked, turning to his equally large (and very hairy) friend and sniggering.

“Well, yes,” Bitty began, wincing with regret at his own words. The guys raised their eyebrows. So, they knew Bitty was on Samwell’s Hockey team too. Though it was usually a source of pride, right now, Bitty wished he hadn’t made that detail known.

“Same ‘Samwell Hockey’ that kicked your team’s ass last year.” Jack said, his voice sharp as a knife.

“I’d like to see you kick ass in any real sport.” The football player smirked, his voice dripping with disdain. This was bad, extremely, earth-shatteringly bad. Jack hated when people messed with hockey.

“Real sport?” Jack asked, his rage hot and evident in his tone.

“Yeah. Any sport that princess over here can play certainly isn’t real.” The football player said, gesturing over to Bitty. Bitty tensed up, but was ready to leave, ready to grab Jack and get the hell away from these jerks. But before he could do anything, Jack was lunging, grabbing at the football player’s collar and tugging.

“What did you just say?” Jack asked, willing his voice to be calm as long as possible. Jack didn’t like fighting. Honestly, he didn’t. But the way this dude talked about hockey, about Bitty, made his blood run hot. Turns out, it didn’t even matter what he thought about fighting, though. The football player swung first. Bitty jumped back, almost backing into a standee of Santa Claus. The punch landed squarely on Jack’s eye, knocking him backwards. Bitty was yelling now, he wasn’t sure what, but he knew he was yelling. The fight continued around him, and the first football player’s hairy friend thought it was his turn to land a punch. But this time, Jack was ready. When the hairy friend raised his arm, Jack caught him off guard and landed a punch, straight in his gut. The first football player took his turn again and returned the favor, sending Jack reeling with a punch to his mid-section.   
“Jack!” Bitty heard himself yell. He felt like an idiot, standing there and doing nothing while his captain, his friend, was getting beaten up right in front of him. Bitty hated stuff like this. The physical kind of stuff, where he could seriously get himself hurt. Checking, fighting, Bitty wasn’t even a fan of arm wrestling. But right now, his mind was rushing and before he knew what he was doing, he was stepping in front of Jack. Like the idiot he was, he was stepping in front of his 200 pound, 6’1” captain and acting as if he could shield him from the world. And Bitty felt like he was ready to, standing there and watching the hairy friend raise his arm once again

“I ain’t no princess!” Bitty yelled, bracing himself for a hit.

That’s when the security guard showed up.

“Hey, how did it-” Ransom shot up from his position on the couch and bolted into the front hallway at the sound of the door opening, but stopped short when he saw Jack and Bitty enter. “...go?” He finished weakly.

He had expected a lot of things to happen when Jack and Bitty came back. Some hand holding, maybe some kissing, just some gross lovey-dovey shit and some well deserved thanks directed at him for his amazing matchmaking skills. What he didn’t expect was Jack to enter, sporting a pissed off expression and a developing black eye, arguing with Bitty at the tops of his lungs.

“You’ve could have seriously gotten yourself hurt! You’re our captain Jack, what if they had really injured you-” Bitty stomped into the house ahead of Jack, ignoring Ransom in favour of huffing into the kitchen.

“They were just some asshole football players, ok? They weren’t gonna do any real damage.” Jack yelled in response, following Bitty into the kitchen. “Besides, they started it.”

“They started it? Really, that’s your excuse?” Bitty shot back, his voice acidic.

“Yeah, they picked a fight, I finished it.” Jack said, his voice dark and annoyed.

“Finished it?” Bitty scoffed. “Please, the security guard that dragged us out of the mall finished it.”   
“So, guys-” Ransom began again, sliding carefully into the kitchen. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Jack said.

“Jack got in a fight in the middle of the mall.” Bitty said at the same time. At that moment, Holster came bounding down the stairs, grinning widely.

“Aye, Jack, Bitty! How’d it go?” He asked, coming into the kitchen, ignoring Ransom’s frantic hand gestures that basically screamed ‘Shut the fuck up, dude’. Jack and Bitty shared a glare before Jack stormed out of the kitchen. For a moment, it was silent. Ransom and Holster just stared at Bitty, who was glaring after Jack. Muttering to himself, Bitty began snatching flour and baking powder out of the cupboard, slamming the doors shut as he went.

“Um-” Holster began, cautiously.

“I’m angry baking.” Bitty said. With that, Ransom and Holster left. They really weren’t looking for a bag of flour to be thrown at their head.

When the pie was in the oven and Bitty had let himself cool down, he realized he wasn’t exactly being rational. Jack was standing up for Hockey, standing up for him. And now he had landed himself a black eye, and Bitty had just yelled at him. Carefully, Bitty made his way upstairs, pausing in front of Jack’s room. The door was shut, and Bitty raised his hand, about to knock, when a voice came from inside.   
“You can come it, Bittle.” Jack said, his voice calm. Bitty tensed up, but took a deep breath and went in all the same. He wasn’t sure how Jack knew he had been there, but he was glad he did. God knows how long Bitty would have stood there, one hand raised, about to knock. Jack was lying on his bed, a book in hand, but sat up when Bitty came in. For a moment, Bitty just stood in the door, staring a Jack. Jack cleared his throat and moved over slightly, patting the bed to indicate that Bitty should sit. Carefully, Bitty approached.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Bitty said, cautiously sitting down beside Jack on his bed.

“Yeah, well I did anyway.” Jack responded sharply. He saw Bitty recoil, and immediately regretted his tone. “Sorry, I mean-” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. They never came, so he opted for silence. It was better than saying the wrong thing again.

“You know, I don’t need my honor defended.” Bitty said after a moment, an edge of sarcasm sharpening his tone.    
“I wasn’t defending you, I was defending the sport.” Jack muttered. There was another moment of silence. Jack stared at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at the boy beside him. His efforts were in vain, however, because Bitty had already turned to him, and was staring intently at his face. Slowly, Bitty raised a hand, and lightly brushed the bruise that was beginning to form under Jack’s eye. Jack’s entire body tensed up at the touch before he could even register what was happening, as if he was bracing himself for another punch to the gut.

“Oh, gosh. Sorry, did that hurt?” Bitty asked, concern weighing down his voice. Jack shook his head, still refusing to face the boy beside him.  “Listen, Jack-” Bitty began, and Jack could tell Bitty was going to say something sweet. Bitty was going to say something sweet and caring and Hallmark movie worthy and Jack wasn’t sure he could do that right now. Not when his face was throbbing and he was really starting to enjoy the way Bitty’s hand felt on it. So Jack stood up and cleared his throat, and before Bitty could finish, he was already talking.   
“C’mon, let’s go.” Jack said, turning back around to face Bitty, who was still seated on his bed.

“Where are we going?” Bitty asked, standing up, and Jack’s head started to feel a little funny. They had just gotten in a fight, and Bitty still wanted to follow him, despite this. This guy’s unrelenting kindness was getting a little out of hand.

“To the rink.” Jack responded plainly. Bitty cocked his head in a way that reminded Jack oddly of a puppy.

“What about your face? Are you sure you’re ok to skate?” Bitty asked, scanning Jack’s injuries.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jack said casually, offering up a shrug. “But we should really work on your stickhandling. I mean, if you want to.” He amended quickly. Bitty smiled, and Jack’s face began to heat up. Maybe it was just the black eye.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Bitty said, and turned towards the door. For a moment, Jack stood there watching his friend leave. It was weird, but for some reason, Jack felt like this was more Hallmark worthy than anything Bitty could have said.

“So, plan A was-” Holster began, searching for the word to describe what he had just witnessed.   
“A disaster? A massive fuck-up? The biggest mistake of our lives?” Ransom offered.

“Unsuccessful.” Holster finished.

“Understatement of the year, dude.” Ransom said. The two boys sat across from each other in their room, Ransom leaning against one bed, Holster leaning against the other. After Jack had stormed up to his room, and Bitty had begun to “angry-bake” (as he called it), Ransom and Holster had scurried upstairs, hoping to avoid the line of fire.

“And it’s not even that we’re bad matchmakers-” Holster started.

“Oh, no way bro. We’re awesome at this.” Ransom assured him.

“I know right? But anyway, it’s not us. It’s them.” Holster finished.

“For sure, dude.” Ransom said, confidently. “But what now?”

“Well, we sure as hell can’t just give up!” Holster said, with a renewed sense of purpose. “It isn’t what Colin Firth would want.”

“Damn right.” Ransom said. “I guess we’ll just have to think of something else.”

****  
  


2

When Ransom entered the Haus that afternoon, after a particularly draining study session, he was greeted by the smell of cookies. Buttery, delicious, amazing cookies. Ransom grinned.

Bitty was baking.

Bitty baked for a variety of different reasons. When he was happy, sad, or angry, Bitty baked. When the team won or lost, Bitty baked. And whenever a holiday was near, Bitty baked. Waltzing into the kitchen, Ransom swooped over Bitty’s shoulder and glanced down at the bowl he was holding. Bitty held the bowl in the crook of his elbow and used the free hand to stir the batter of what looked like chocolate chip cookies.

“Ransom.” Bitty said after a moment. “Can I help you?” Ransom remained silent. Bitty knew exactly what he wanted. Sighing, Bitty shook his head. “Fine. You can lick the spoon.” Grinning, Ransom plucked the spoon from Bitty’s grip and scurried to the other side of the kitchen, proud of his success.

“So, any particular reason you’re baking? Or is it just the Christmas spirit?” Ransom asked. He could see Bitty’s back tense up at his question, if only for a moment.

“Oh, um... Christmas, I guess. Yeah, just Christmas.” Bitty said, turning around and smiling briefly. Before Ransom could say anything more, Shitty sauntered in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his official Samwell sweatpants.

“‘Sup, guys?” Shitty asked, leaning against the counter beside Ransom.

“Bitty’s baking.” Ransom said, mouth full of batter. Shitty glanced over at Bitty.

“Angry baking, sad baking, happy baking or just Christmas baking?” Shitty asked.

“Just Christmas baking.” Bitty reaffirmed, offering a small smile. Bitty turned his back one more, facing the stove top where his cookie sheet was placed. Ransom and Shitty glanced at each other. Something about Bitty was off. In fact, ever since he and Jack had gotten in that fight, and then magically made up over stickhandling, something had been really off about him. It’d been almost a week since that first incident, and Christmas break was steadily creeping closer. This whole matchmaking thing was going to be harder than he thought, especially with a deadline. At this point, he and Holster were gonna have their work cut out for them. That’s when Ransom realized Shitty had no idea about Operation Christmas: Bitty Please Date Jack (title still progress).

“Hey, Shits, you mind helping me out with something?” Ransom asked, vaguely. Shitty just looked at him. “In the hall, I mean.” Not waiting for an answer, Ransom let the mixing spoon fall into the sink when he walked by it and used his now free hands to tug Shitty unceremoniously out into the hall.

“Dude, what’s going on? You seem all tense and shit.” Shity said, his eyes widening. “Did you fight with Holster?”

“What? No way!” Ransom exclaimed, shocked that Shitty would even suggest that. Ransom couldn’t remember the last time he and Holster had fought, as in really, honestly fought. Fights over the last piece of pizza didn’t count, and neither did fights in the middle of a Wii Tennis tournament. It was as if he’d walked into Samwell, been paired as D-men with Holster and the next thing he know, they were rooming together and coming up with secret handshakes. It was funny, but sometimes Ransom had a hard time remembering Holster hadn’t always been a part of his life.

“So, what’s up?” Shitty asked, snapping Ransom out of his thoughts. Ransom wasn’t sure how to be begin. When Holster had phrased the plan, it sounded completely sane. But whenever Ransom tried to speak, he was worried he’d sound like a creep, instead of the genius matchmaker he was.

“Have you ever seen Love, Actually?” Ransom began, immediately regretting his words. Shitty raised an eyebrow.

“Duh, it’s like, a staple movie of this generation.” Shitty said. Ransom grinned, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Well, you see, Holster sort of had an idea, loosely based off of it…” Ransom began.

“Is Holster trying to seduce the Prime Minister?” Shitty asked.

“What? No!” Ransom said. Shitty just shrugged. “We’re trying to get Jack and Bitty together!” Ransom said in an urgent whisper.

“Oh, shit.” Shitty said. “That seems a lot easier than trying to seduce the Prime Minister.”

“Yeah, you’d think so.  But Operation Christmas: Bitty Please Date Jack also known as Operation All Jack Want For Christmas Is Bitty is sort of hitting a rough spot.”

“Why are both titles based off of Mariah Carey songs?” Shitty asked.   
“Not the point.” Ransom said. “But, Holster and I are sort of out of ideas.” Ransom looked at Shitty earnestly. “We’re just trying to make the guys happy, you know?” Shitty nodded. At that moment, Holster entered the Haus, bringing with him a blast of cold air.

“Where were you?” Shitty asked, glancing at Holster, who was clutching two bags of groceries and grinning like an idiot.

“Murder Stop & Shop.” Holster said, showing off the plastic bags. “And guess what I got!”

“More Christmas decorations?” Ransom asked.

“No! But, really we do need more decorations.” Holster said. Ransom glared at him. “Anyway!” Holster smiled, getting back to the point. “I have a Plan B, since the whole gift shopping thing was a failure.”

“Seriously? What is it?” Ransom asked.

“Wait, you guys already ruined one plan?” Shitty interjected, glancing between the two D-men.

“You told him about Operation Christmas: Bitty Please-” Holster began, before Ransom cut him off.

“Yeah, I told him.” Ransom said, taking a plastic bag from Holster and beginning to rifle through it. “Thought we could use all the help we could get.”

“You’re probably right.” Holster said. “But trust me, this next plan is foolproof.” He finished, confidently. Ransom pulled a carton of eggs out of the plastic bag and raised an eyebrow. Holster just grinned.

“Ok, Shits, since you officially know about the Operation, are you in?” Holster asked.

“Sure, man. Jack really likes skating with Bitty, I’m sure he’d like dating him too.” Shitty reasoned. The D-men in front of him nodded. No one could argue with that logic. The three boys all carefully turned to the kitchen, where Bitty was plopping globs of cookie dough on the baking sheet in front of him. Holster smiled.

“Guys, what does Bitty like more than anything?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Baking, with Beyonce as a close second, right?” Ransom responded, suspicious of where this plan was heading.

“Exactly!” Holster said, sounding a bit like an evil scientist. That’s when the plan became clear, at least to Shitty.

“Wait. You want Bitty and Jack to bake together?” Shitty asked, raising an eyebrow. Holster nodded vigorously, still grinning like a maniac. “You know Jack can’t bake for shit, right?” Shitty continued.

“Yeah, but that’s not important.” Holster assured. “I’ll just tell Bitty I promised some Christmas cookies to some people, and then Jack will come in and be all helpful and kind and shit like that and BOOM!” He exclaimed, making Ransom jump. “They’ll be dating in no time.” The noise Holster had made has alerted Bitty to their presence, and he poked his head into the hallway, the three boys all staring at him from the opposite end near the door.

“Bitty! Just the guy I was hoping to see!” Holster said, brightly. “Shits, run upstairs and get Jack.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Shitty nodded. The plan may be absolutely insane, but it was worth a shot, right? In a moment, Shitty was gone upstairs and Holster and Ransom were ushering Bitty back into the kitchen, where they both laid down their plastic bags, full of baking supplies.

“So, I sort of made a promise to the Tennis team.” Holster began, feigning guilt. “I promised them some Christmas cookies, and you know I can’t bake so-”  
“I’ll do it!” Bitty exclaimed happily. “Oh, this is wonderful, I already have a batch in the oven-”

“That’s awesome!” Holster said. “But I need you to make more. So many more.”

“Well, alright.” Bitty said, glancing at the baking supplies. There were a few new cookie recipes he’d been meaning to try.

“You know, this is such a big project, I think you might need some help.” Holster said, offering an exaggerated wink to Ransom. Ransom rolled his eyes, but went with it, swinging an arm around Holster and grinning.

“I think I’m good-” Bitty began.

“Nonsense! You’ll need all the help you can get.” Ransom said, confidently. At that moment, Shitty reemerged, tugging Jack behind him.  

“I thought you said World War II In Color was playing on the Military channel.” Jack said to Shitty when they arrived in the kitchen.

“Did I? Weird, dude.” Shitty said. “Anyway, Bitty has a shit ton of cookies to make and needs your help.”

“Oh?” Jack asked, obviously still confused by the whole situation. He stared at Bitty, who for some reason, had turned a deep shade of red.

“Yeah, um...Holster apparently promised cookies to the Tennis team. A lot of cookies.” Bitty said, his eyes glued to the floor.

“I can’t really bake-” Jack began. Holster cut him off, coming out from under Ransom’s arm and turning to face his captain with a grin.

“So? You can crack eggs and pour flour, right? I’m sure that’s all the help Bitty needs.” Holster assured, glancing over at Bitty.

“I guess an extra pair of hands would be nice.” Bitty confessed, finally meeting Jack’s eyes. “If you’re ok with that, I mean.” Jack nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” Jack agreed with a soft smile. It made Bitty’s stomach feel like pudding.

“Um, right. Ok.” Bitty began, beginning to unpack the supplies from the grocery bag. Jack went over to his side and began unpacking with him, the two of them falling into a gentle rhythm, picking up an easy conversation as they went.

“Well, I’m heading over to the library. I’ve got a good ten overdo books I’ve gotta convince the librarian not to fine me on.” Shitty said with a smile, excusing himself from the room. Ransom and Holster stood there for a moment. Honestly, Holster hadn’t thought he’d get this far.

“Hey, Ransom, wanna help me with that thing-” Holster began.

“Yeah, totally man.” Ransom said hurriedly, grabbing Holster and ushering him out of the kitchen. It felt odd to just go upstairs and wait for this whole thing to play out, so Ransom kept walking until the two of them were at the door and he was shoving on his shoes and coat.

“What are you…?” Holster started.

“YEAH, LOOKS LIKE WE’VE GOT TO LEAVE THE HAUS FOR THIS THING.” Ransom said, loud enough for Bitty and Jack to hear in the kitchen. Holster realized what was happening, and soon enough, was following Ransom out the door and into the cold. Unsure of where they were going, the two boys began walking. The snow was falling gently, sprinkling the ground and leaving a light, sugary sheen over the grass and pavement. Ransom walked beside Holster, the two of them occasionally bumping together.

“We’re seriously getting good at this whole matchmaking thing.” Ransom said.

“I know, right?” Holster agreed. “It just sucks there isn’t more than one couple to get together. Then it’d really be like Love Actually.”

“Dude, are you seriously doing this because you wanna be Colin Firth that badly?” Ransom said with a chuckle. Holster laughed in response, shaking his head.

“Nah. I mean, dude’s awesome, but… I guess it’s more than that.” Holster said, kicking a small patch of snow with his boot. “I guess it just feels good to do something more for Christmas then get presents and eat a shit ton.” Ransom glanced over at Holster, who was still walking beside him, his eyes on the sidewalk. Holster did shit like this sometimes, and it always left Ransom feeling a bit out of it. He’d just say something, something stupid and kind and it’d make Ransom’s head feel a little lighter. Holster was a good guy. Beyond being a kick-ass defenseman and a sub-par Mario Kart player, Holster was just a really good guy. He liked to help people, he liked to make people feel good, and sure, Ransom was by his side for most of it, but sometimes it felt like if someone wasn’t holding him back, Holster would try to save the whole goddamn world.

“Yeah, I get it.” Was all Ransom said.

“It feels good, dude. It feels nice making people happy.” Holster said, grinning like an idiot and finally tilting his head upward and staring at the snow, falling in light, fluffy flakes. Ransom had to shake himself. This was Holster he was looking at. Holster, who’d tried to make Pizza Rolls over some candles when the power had gone out a few weeks ago. Holster, who had a crush on Liz Lemon and had cried for a solid 2 hours when the final episode of 30 Rock had ended. Holster, Ransom’s best fucking friend, who was standing there in the snow, making Ransom feel as if he was doing the world a real disservice by not wrapping his arms around the dude and doing something he’d probably really regret.

“You alright dude?” Holster asked, snapping Ransom out of his thoughts. Ransom just nodded, and the two of them began walking again, side by side, in the freezing snow. “We make a pretty damn good match-making team, don’t you think?” Holster asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed, smiling lightly. “A pretty damn good team.”

It was almost half an hour later when Ransom and Holster finally arrived back at the Haus. After wandering around the campus for a solid 15 minutes, the two of them got horribly bored of that, and wandered over to the art buildings to annoy Lardo for a while, before deciding 30 minutes was enough for matchmaking magic to happen. The boys entered the Haus quietly, ready to sprint upstairs and stay hidden if need be. Turns out, there was no need for that. The moment Holster entered, he heard the sound of yelling and the distinctive smell of smoke.

“Fuck.” Holster said, looking at Ransom, who wore an expression of shock Holster was sure mirrored his own face. The two of them rushed down the hall and into the kitchen, where Bitty and Jack stood across from each other, yelling at the top of their lungs, next to a fire sprouting out of the oven that would put most campfires to shame. When Bitty had moved in, he had insisted the Haus have a fire extinguisher in the kitchen. Ransom rushed for it now, grabbing onto it and getting ready to use it the moment he had the chance.

“You’re being childish, Jack, honestly!” Bitty yelled, his eyes sharp.

“I’m not being childish, you’re just treating me like a child.” Jack shot back.

“Please, I am not!” Bitty responded. It seemed neither of them were paying any mind to the fire beside them. “If anyone’s patronizing anyone, it’s you patronizing me!”

“I’m not patronizing you, I’m just trying to-” Jack began.

“Trying to what, Jack? Help? Or control?” Bitty cut him off. That was a bad thing to say, Ransom knew this the second it left Bitty’s mouth. It seemed Bitty knew that to, judging by the way his expression changed from one of bitterness to one of immediate regret. But before he could say anything, Jack was speaking again.

“Well, I guess we all can’t be perfect like you!” Jack said, the sharpness in his voice palpable.

“GUYS!” Ransom yelled, rushing between the two and putting the fire out with a blast from the fire extinguisher. The fire died down, leaving the oven blackened and scorched. Bitty stood there, still facing Jack, his body tense and eyes wet. Turning on his heels, he pushed past Holster, and rushed up the stairs. The door to his room slammed with a sense of finality that could be heard all the way in the kitchen. Jack winced.

“Shit.” Jack muttered, glancing around at the carnage of the kitchen.

“Dude, what the hell happened?” Holster asked, unsure of how to react.

“It was fine, we were just-” Jack started. “Fuck. It wasn’t fine, I started being an asshole and then it sort of-” He made a grand motion to the wreck that was the kitchen, covered in dirty bowls and cookie sheets. “...spiraled.”

“Sorry, man, this is all my fault.” Holster said.

“No, it’s not. It’s mine.” Jack insisted, moving over to the counter, looking like he was ready to start cleaning up. Ready to join him, Ransom set down the fire extinguisher, but was surprised when Jack turned to him and Holster, holding a bowl of what looked like cookie dough in his hands. “But I think I know how I can make it better.”

When Bitty heard the knock first sound at his door, he almost didn’t answer it. Bitty was perfectly happy spending the rest of the day lying on his bed, watching New Girl on his laptop and eating Peppermint Bark. But the knock came again, and this time Bitty finally willed himself to get up, padding over to the door and swinging it open. Jack stood there in Bitty’s doorway, his eyes locked on the hardwood floors, hands behind his back. His face, hair and neck were all covered in flour, and his apron (he was actually wearing an apron!) was covered in scorch marks. He looked like he’d just gotten out of a fight with a oven.

“Jack?” When Bitty said his name, Jack reluctantly looked up. If Bitty didn’t know him better, he’d almost be inclined to say his cheeks were burning.

“I, um-” Jack cleared his throat, putting on his captain voice. “I made you something. It’s nothing special, but…” Jack searched desperately for something to say. “I just wanted to thank you. And you know, say I’m sorry.” With that, Jack brought his hands forward. Resting in both of his palms was a glob of cookie dough, that had been burnt to a crisp and molded into some odd shape. Bitty stared at it.

“Is that-” He began, but Jack cut him off.

“It’s a hockey stick.” Jack mumbled, and even under all the flour on his face, Bitty swore he saw his cheeks turn red.

“You baked something? For me?” Bitty asked slowly, still not quite believing what he was seeing. Jack could only nod. There was a moment of silence, where Bitty was simply staring down at the cookie in his friend’s hands.

“Sorry, this was dumb. You obviously don’t want this-” Jack was putting on his captain voice again and backing out of Bitty’s room. Bitty jumped to stop him, clutching his right forearm. Jack froze.

“I love it.” Bitty said sincerely, trying desperately not to tear up. For the first time since he had entered, Jack met his eyes. Bitty, one hand still resting on Jack’s arm, took the cookie and held it, grinning. “Thank you.” Jack’s eyes shot to the floor again.   
“Really, it’s nothing.” He began, looking like he was about to bolt. “I tried making a whole batch, but they all ended up burning.” He glanced down at the cookie, now resting in Bitty’s palm. “This one looks… sort of edible?” He tried. Both he and Bitty were looking at the cookie now, burnt and misshapen in Bitty’s hand. And then something crazy happened. Bitty had heard Jack laugh before. Of course he had, Jack wasn’t a robot. He’d heard Jack laugh at Shitty and Lardo singing karaoke, at Will Ferrell movies, Bitty even swears he heard Jack chuckle at a funny cat video. But that’s all it was; Jack chuckled, or smirked. He didn’t giggle. But right now, Jack was standing in front of Bitty, covered in flour and scorch marks, giggling at the cookie in Bitty’s hand. Bitty’s chest started to feel tight.

“Fuck, what am I saying?” Jack asked, through gasps of air. “Please, don’t eat that, that’s not edible at all.” Bitty was laughing now too, one hand holding the cookie, the other still resting on Jack’s shaking arm.

“Well, I guess it’s the thought that counts.” Bitty said, finally taking his hand off of Jack’s arm. Jack ran his own hand through his hair, still laughing.

“Still, I’m pretty sure there are eggshells in there.” Jack said, looking at Bitty. Bitty had a hard time believing he ever thought Jack was Captain Serious at moments like this. Moments when Jack was just standing in front of him, bright and warm, shaking with laughter and sporting a smile that could light up an ice rink.

“I still love it.” Bitty said seriously. Jack paused, staring at his friend intently for a moment, before grinning once again.

“Eggshells and all?” He asked. The tight feeling in Bitty’s chest came back again, spreading through his ribs and lungs. He wasn’t entirely sure it was a bad feeling.  

“Eggshells and all.” Bitty responded, smiling. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, and for a moment, the world was as slow as molasses. Bitty could hear his heart pounding in his chest, so rapid and violent he swore Jack could hear it.

“I’m sorry too.” Bitty said, his voice quiet. Jack looked at him, searching his face.

“You don’t need to apologize-” Jack began.

“Yes, I do.” Bitty said, before he lost courage. “You’re a great captain Jack, and I’m really lucky to have you-” Bitty hesitated. “As my friend. I’m lucky you’re my friend.” Jack stared at him, and for a moment, Bitty was unsure of what was going to happen. Guys didn’t usually do stuff like this, right? Offering each other cookies and then sharing heartfelt confessions of manly friendship didn’t seem like the thing most teammates did (excluding maybe Ransom and Holster). But Jack just smiled, soft and unsure, and nodded.

“Me too. I mean, I’m glad we’re friends too.” He said. Bitty’s stomach continued tying itself into knots, and he was sure being this close to Jack for so long wasn’t helping at all.

“I should, um-” Bitty began, giving a vague motion back to his bed.

“Yeah, I’ve got a paper I should be working on.” Jack said, beginning to back out of Bitty’s door. It was taking all of Bitty’s power to not reach out and grab him, to tug him back and keep him standing there, warm and kind in front of Bitty. But Jack was disappearing back down the hallway, offering one last smile and leaving Bitty with a mild headache and million questions.

3

Samwell looked like the inside of a snowglobe when Holster woke up, the snow illuminated by a thin sliver of sun, just peeking over the horizon. Most of the Samwell student body had gone home for the holidays, making the usually packed campus seem deserted and quiet. Tearing his eyes away from the window, Holster ran a hand over his face and made his way out of his room and to the bathroom, muttering about it being “too goddamn early”. It had to be like this, though. Holster had to get up at the asscrack of dawn, pray Jack wasn’t up for one of those runs he took at ungodly hours in the morning, and put up sprigs of mistletoe all over the fucking Haus. It was either this, or he’d have to put up with Jack and Bitty flitting around each other for God knows how long. The matchmaking had started out as something Holster wanted to do, something nice and in the spirit of Christmas. Now, it felt like Holster’s sworn duty. Since the whole baking incident and the inevitable heart to heart that had happened after Jack had made Bitty a cookie (a disgusting cookie, but the sentiment was still there), the two hockey players had been jumping out of their skin whenever the other entered the room. They’d flirting, felt weird about flirting, stopped flirting, felt weird about not flirting, and started the whole process over, all while Holster was still next to them on the couch, trying to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol in peace.

“Um, you were good during free skate yesterday,” Jack would say, trying his hand at a compliment.

“Thanks! I mean, thanks for helping me with stick handling and stuff.” Bitty would respond, flashing an honest smile and making Jack turn pink. Jack would clear his throat, and silence would fall. Silence that lasted about two minutes, before Jack or Bitty started talking again, complimenting each other on whatever random thing the could think of. It was sweet, but irritating. The suspense could only last for so long. So, he was taking action. Real, concrete, un-fuck-up-able action. After he put in his contacts, Holster trudged back up to his room. Making his way towards his bed, he noticed Ransom stirring from his own bed, and began preparing himself for the inevitable shitstorm that would follow after Ransom realized how early he’d been woken up. But nothing happened. Ransom stayed asleep, half snoring, buried under mountains of covers. Holster grinned, satisfied with himself. Honestly, not waking Ransom up at 6 in the morning was the least he could do for the guy. Moving over towards his bed, he rummaged under it for a moment, searching for the plastic bag he had stuffed with fake sprigs of mistletoe. Snatching up the bag and hurrying down stairs, all the way to the living room this time, Holster set the bag down on the coffee table and began the search for tape. It was going to be a long morning.

“Dude, what’s with this stuff?” Ransom asked that afternoon when he entered the living room to Holster sitting on the couch, watching some movie on the TV. He held a sprig of mistletoe in his hand, holding it up for Holster to see. “I’ve almost had to kiss Lardo twice, and I had a pretty close call with Chowder.” Holster grinned impishly.

“Plan C, my friend. Plan fucking C.” Holster said triumphantly. Ransom laughed incredulously, sitting down beside Holster.

“Seriously? You think mistletoe will work?” Ransom asked. “I was starting to think it was a hopeless case.”

“Never doubt yourself, dude! And more importantly, never doubt me.” Holster responded. This just made Ransom laugh more.

“Whatever you say, man.” He reconciled, tossing the mistletoe between his hands. “I haven’t seen Jack or Bitty all day.”

“Bitty’s out with Shitty getting stuff for tonight,” Holster began. “Murder Stop & Shop has a surprisingly extensive Deli.” Tonight, of course, was the huge dinner Bitty had insisted on throwing before everyone headed out for the holidays. Bitty would bake, a few guys would pitch in to make a ham, and Shitty would supply the beer. People had been rushing in and out of the house all day, starting on dishes and causing general chaos.

“What about Jack?” Ransom asked.

“No idea. Sure he’s around somewhere though.” Holster answered with a shrug. At that moment, Lardo walked in, and immediately targeted Ransom, who was still tossing the mistletoe between his hands.

“Dude, don’t tell me it was you who’s putting up these…” She paused, searching for the right words. “...lethal weapons everywhere.”

“You mean the mistletoe?” Ransom asked with a laugh.

“Yes!” Lardo exclaimed, plopping down on the chair beside the couch. “Do you know how close I came to almost having to kiss Chowder back there? I thought the poor boy was going to have a heart attack.”

“I’ve been there.” Ransom said, shooting a glare at Holster. “You can blame this guy right here.”  
“Seriously, Holster?” Lardo asked, pulling herself into a cross-legged position.

“Guilty. But trust me,” Holster said. “It’s for the greater good.” Lardo looked as if she was going to question this when Shitty and Bitty returned, their arms laden with shopping bags.

“Hey ya’ll!” Bitty said cheerily, bustling into the living room.

“Hey dude.” Holster said, eyeing the bags. “What’d you get?”

“Butter. So much fucking butter.” Shitty said from behind Bitty. “And some beer.”

“And a ham!” Bitty added cheerfully. “You guys ready for tonight?”

“Born ready.” Lardo responded seriously, standing up from the chair and walking over to ruffle Bitty’s hair. “C’mon, I’ll help you guys put this shit away.” She offered, gesturing to the groceries. Shitty grinned at her.

“‘Bout damn time you help out around here.” He said with a cheeky grin, which earned him a punch in the shoulder. The three of them trucked off to the kitchen, groceries in hand. Holster glanced at Ransom.

“You wanna how many sticks of butter I can fit in my mouth?” Holster asked.

“Gross, dude!” Ransom said with a laugh. “Fuck yeah I wanna see!” Grinning at his friend, the two of them rushed into the kitchen, almost tripping over each other on the way in. Shitty was holding Lardo up by the waist, helping her place bags of flour on the top shelf behind the counter, while Bitty was crouched by the fridge, stuffing stick after stick of butter onto the bottom shelf.

“Bitty, wanna hook us up with five or ten sticks of that stuff?” Holster asked.

“Oh, bless your heart.” Bitty began, glancing up at his friends. “This stuff is gold to me, you’re not getting an ounce of it.” He pronounced his point by shaking a stick of butter at the two defense men. Groaning, they moved to the cupboard, hoping to find some cheese puffs in it’s back recesses. It was then that Dex and Nursey walked in, Chowder following close behind them, looking rather panicked.

“Would someone please tell Nursey to put on a sweater!” Dex said angrily. Bitty snicked. It was odd, seeing someone caring about someone else so aggressively.

“Chill, dude. I’m fine. I can handle a little cold.” Nursey said, smiling easily. Dex’s freckles were illuminated by an irritated shade of red, but before a fight could escalate, Bitty stepped in.

“How about we start cooking the ham?” Bitty suggested. The Frogs nodded, moving over towards the fridge to receive whatever instructions they could. The kitchen shifted into an easy rhythm after that, Lardo and Shitty putting groceries away, Bitty and the Frogs preparing the ham and Ransom and Holster sitting on the counter and spilling cheese puff dust everywhere. Holster nudged Ransom, who was sitting beside, one hand in the cheese puff bag. Mouth stuffed, Ransom glanced over at his friend.

“Mhm?” He asked around his food.

“It kinda sucks that we don’t get to spend Christmas with these guys, doesn’t it?” Holster asked, surveying the kitchen. Ransom followed his gaze. It was odd, but Ransom saw exactly where Holster was coming from. The Haus was a mess. Home of gross couches, a surplus of empty beer cans and some of the raunchiest parties Samwell had ever seen, Ransom was shocked some campus official hadn’t succeeded in shutting it down. But in a way Ransom couldn’t quite explain, it was home. He wasn’t sure when his definition of home had changed to something more than just the place he grew up in, but all of a sudden, home was Bitty’s cooking and Shitty’s horrible Just Dance tournaments. It was summer BBQs and the weird smell of unwashed socks that always came from the basement. It the Haus, it was the team. With a startling shock of realization, Ransom realized he was still staring at Holster, whose eyes were still glued on the kitchen. It was Holster. Ransom felt like an idiot, like a straight-up Hallmark card, but Holster turned to smile at him and his stomach felt like ribbons. It was Holster. Ransom’s home was sitting right next to him, covered in cheese puff dust and wearing a backwards baseball cap.

“Yeah, it kinda does suck.” Ransom agreed, trying to ignore the encroaching feeling that the room was getting smaller. At that moment, Jack entered the kitchen, leaning up against the fridge, an easy smile on his face.

“You’ve officially recruited the Frogs as your baking slaves, eh?” He asked Bitty, his tone playful. Bitty smirked at him.  

“No way! They’re not slaves.” Bitty insisted.

“More like elfs.” Chowder added helpfully. This made Jack chuckle, which only made Bitty miss his full laugh, the one he had heard just days earlier.

“Need any help?” Jack offered sincerely. Bitty looked over at him from the oven.

“Yes!” Bitty responded, wincing at his own eagerness. “I mean, yeah. Sure, if you want.”

“Can’t believe you’d let me near any kitchen equipment.” Jack said, shaking his head.

“I trust you.” Bitty said, his tone serious. Jack looked at him before breaking into a soft smile, one that made Bitty’s insides feel like meringue.

“Dude,” Holster began, gesturing to Jack and Bitty, now speaking close together in front of the oven. “We might just be able to pull this off.” Ransom looked at his friend, his mind in a million different places, but managed a smile anyway.

“We just might.”

The Pre-Christmas Vacation Eat-A-Thon (title coined by Shitty) was possibly the greatest thing Bitty had ever pulled off. Cleaning the dishes may be a slight downside, but it was worth it. Sometimes, he felt like a mother hen, but Bitty didn’t mind. It was enough to see his teammates happy. So, being the hen he was, the moment they had finished eating and the snow had begun to pile up, Bitty had shooed them all outside to enjoy the snow while they could. Christmas only came once a year, after all.   
“Hey.” Jack’s voice startled Bitty out of his thoughts. Looking up from the sink, Bitty smiled at his captain, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a Christmas sweater that Shitty and Lardo had forced him into earlier that evening. He’d kill Bitty for saying it, but Bitty thought it was pretty damn cute.

“Hi.” Bitty replied. Without a word, Jack moved beside Bitty and began drying off dishes with a holly patterned dish towel, courtesy of Holster.

“How’s Betsey been since the… accident?” Jack asked delicately. He’d helped prepare the ham that evening, but didn’t dare go near the oven.

“You remembered her name!” Bitty said with a laugh.

“Of course I did. I sort of set her on fire and then spent an hour cleaning her. I had to learn her name at some point during that process.” Jack stated plainly.

“Aw, you really do care!” Bitty said jokingly. Jack paused in his dish drying, turning to Bitty. There a moment of silence, the only noise coming from the running faucet.

“I do, you know.” Jack mumbled. Bitty looked at him, curious. “I mean, you know what we say. ‘We have each other’s backs.’”

“Of course.” Bitty said, but he couldn’t help the odd sensation of floating from flooding his body. “Um, that was the last dish.” Bitty said, referring to the dish Jack was just setting down to dry.

“Oh, alright.” Jack said, setting down the towel. He paused. He briefly debated simply heading back up to his room, but thought better of it. “Wanna head outside? I’m pretty sure they’re trying to build a snowman replica of Coach Hall.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Bitty said with a laugh. He began walking forward, just as Jack was. It resulted in a moment, right at the entrance to the kitchen, where they briefly paused and in that moment, Bitty realized something. Realized where they were standing. He gulped. Glancing up he saw it, green and spiky and terrifying.

“Mistletoe.” Jack stated bluntly.

“Right.” Bitty said, and for some reason, he wasn’t stepping away. He wasn’t turning on his heel and running in the other direction, running away from the heat of Jack’s chest and the bright green plant above their heads.

“I should-” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, searching desperately for something to say.

“Yeah, me too-” Bitty said, unsure of what he was agreeing with. They stood there for another moment, and Bitty wished more than anything someone would come rushing in. Someone would tear them apart at the last second so Bitty wouldn’t have to be the one to leave. But no one came. So, willing his feet to move, Bitty turned away, ready to run off. Ready to drown this feeling in his chest and the feeling that had been following him around for God knows how long. The feeling that there was something in Jack, something in his smiles and his genuine laughs and in the horrible burnt cookies he made. Something that was just for Bitty. Pushing this thought away, Bitty began to move away. But before Bitty could take another step, Jack was grabbing his arm. The moments that had been crawling by so slowly before were sped up now, and before Bitty could react, Jack was swinging him around to face him once more. Moving carefully, as if Bitty would be scared off like a deer, Jack angled his head down.

“Eric-” Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper. At that moment, Bitty stopped thinking. When he heard Jack say his name, his first name, in a voice that felt like honey and ice on his ears, Bitty’s mind switched off. And they were kissing. Bitty was standing up on his tip-toes and kissing Jack. He was wrapping his arms around his neck and relaxing into the other boy’s body and kissing Jack. It was chaste at first, the two of them simply standing there and letting their lips touch. But soon, Jack was picking Bitty up and spinning him around, deepening the kiss with the same level of concentration he would have when scoring a goal. It made Bitty grin into the kiss, until he and Jack finally broke away, and Bitty began to full-on smile. Jack was smiling too, the kind of smile Bitty wished he could imprint behind his eyes, so he’d never forget the way it looked.

“Woah.” Bitty said in a voice that made Jack’s stomach swoop into his shoes. So the two of them stood there, Jack’s arms still wrapped around Bitty’s waist, after he let him gently back onto the ground. Cautiously, Bitty reached for Jack’s hand and laced his fingers with his own.

“Enfin.” Jack mumbled, his head still swimming. But before Bitty could ask exactly what that meant, the front door swung open.

“Guys!” Lardo’s excited voice came from the open door. “The Frogs just started a snowball fight, it’s us vs. them. Get your asses out of here!” Sharing a glance, the two boys rushed out behind Lardo, their hands still intertwined. The snow was falling more heavily now, blanketing the front yard of the Haus in thick layers of powder. The Coach Hall snowman was forgotten in the middle of the yard, and on one side stood the Frogs, pelting snowball after snowball at what looked like a very badly made fort. Shitty poked his head up from behind said fort, grinning like a maniac.

“It’s a battle to the death!” He yelled, wielding a snowball like it was a hand grenade. With that, Shitty rushed to the other side of the yard, straight at the Frogs. Without a second thought, Jack followed, tugging Bitty behind him. That’s when Holster noticed them, as he was dodging flying snowballs and coming under the protection of the fort. Ducking down beside Ransom, he couldn’t help his excitement.

“Hands!” Holster yelled amid the stream of snowballs falling in front of their makeshift fort, hitting Ransom on the shoulder. “They’re holding hands!”

“Shit, dude!” Ransom yelled back, equally excited. “‘Swawesome!”

“We did it!” Holster said, gripping Ransom’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “We actually did it!” That’s when Ransom’s world started imploding. Out of reach of flurrying snow and frantic yells, Holster was kissing Ransom, short and hard and full of life. When he pulled away, Ransom felt as if he had just done a row of shots, one after another. But Holster anchored him there, holding his shoulders and smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Shit!” Holster said, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Sorry, man, I just-”

“Hey.” Ransom said, his eyes locked on Holster. “Merry Christmas, dude.” Holster looked at him, a billion pieces falling into place all at once. Resisting the urge to lay another one on his best friend right there, Holster smiled.

“Merry Christmas, dude.” With that, Holster was tugging Ransom up and pulling him off, to help the ambush Shitty was currently at the head of. Happily following him, Ransom grabbed chunks of snow in both of his hands and rushed behind Holster, feeling like he could take on the world.

“Get up here, idiots!” Lardo yelled, pelting Nursey with all her might. “This war isn’t going to win itself!”

Holster loved a lot of things. Holster loved hockey and 30 Rock. He loved dumb video games and junk food and parties at the Haus. Holster loved Colin Firth and matchmaking and stupid Christmas movies. He loved kissing his best friend in the middle of snowball fight and the dumb feeling of invincibility that came with it.

And Holster fucking _loved_ Christmas. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Christmas Isn't Christmas" By The Boy Least Likely To
> 
> happy holidays everyone!


End file.
